A Vampire In Their Midst
by black lambs don't lie
Summary: There is a Vampire among the knights. His Sire hunts them. Can they save help him or will they have to take him down with his maker? Warnings: Slash and Violence.
1. Prolouge

_Her heavy, fast breathing, erratic pulse and heart rhythm were resounding in his ears. It was driving him crazy, it needed to stop. He threw his head back as she pressed her cupid bow lips on his neck. His vision hazed as he drew back his lips. Suddenly he jerked away, hiding his face as he hid in the shadowed corner of the bed. Thinking he was playing, she crawled after him. _

"_NO!" He cried. She pulled back and looked at him. He had gone so pale it was unnatural._

"_Leave me!" His ivories were changing, making speech slightly difficult. She jumped off the bed to the door. Shaking slightly she reached for the doorknob._

"_Tell no one." He hissed._

"_Am I understood?" He asked raising moon colored eyes. She shook and opened her mouth to scream. As she inhaled a hand clapped over her mouth._

"_You just had to do that." He gave into the call and violently tore her throat. Blood spattered the wall and soaked through his clothes._

Shakily he sat up, drenched in sweat from the blood dream. He raised his hand before his eyes. His skin was deathly pale and tiny blue veins traced his alabaster skin. It was still dark out; he had a chance to feed. Quieter than fatality he climbed out the window. Unseen he stopped in a farmer's cow field. The steady beat of many hearts pounding in his head. He ran a hand over the neck of the nearest bovine, his sensitive fingers finding the beating pulse under the flesh. Resting a hand on the animal's neck with the other on its shoulder he bared his teeth. Sharp eyeteeth sunk easily into the beast's neck. Thick, crimson liquid flowed into his throat. Desperately he fought the orgasmic feeling that came with feeding. As the beast's heart slowed he pulled away.


	2. 1

"We are knights Lancelot, we right wrongs, make strong the weak, mend the broken, vanquish the proud and make powerless those who abuse the frail." Galahad said to his commander's second.

"No Galahad we are NOT fairy tale knights!" Lancelot rounded on Arthur "We kill people, destroy families, we do Rome's dirty work. WE ARE MURDERERS." Lancelot said with such a passion and hatred in his voice that he had yet to ever use with Arthur.

"Yes we do those too but for a greater cause." Arthur said, his voice irritatingly calm.

"Rome's cause Arthur! Rome! Rome is the reason we were taken from our homeland! Rome is the reason hundreds or more die every day! It's Rome's fault it has so many that are against it! ROME is the problem. If Rome wants to protect its cities, let Rome send their own knights. After we receive our discharge papers tomorrow I will be going home where there is no Rome." Lancelot said angrily.

"Listen Lancelot, Rome made a pact with the Sarmatians. For sparing their lives the Sarmatians had to let their children serve Rome." Lancelot sighed as the old speech began again.

"Spare me Arthur. I've heard this a million times before." Arthur glared at him.

"And you know my opinion." Lancelot said returning the glare.

"Yes I do; if Rome would sire their own bastards then you wouldn't have to serve us here." Arthur said repeating exactly what Lancelot told him many times before.

"Exactly." Lancelot inhaled to calm his raging senses.

"Lancelot, please try to see it from Rome's point of view." Arthur instantly regretted telling his friend to do that.

"Hmm, Rome's view is that if it has got a sword and breathing kill it, or if it's one of its own knights send it out on suicide missions." Lancelot stormed off. Arthur palmed his forehead and ran his hand down his face. Arthur sighed as, once again, Lancelot was right about their _job_.

"Lance and Arthur seemed to have gone at it again." Bors said as he watched Arthur head towards the chapel.

"You're right, now Lancelot is going to do something stupid." Gawain said leaning against a wall next to Galahad.

"And only Tristan will be able to stop him, maybe." Galahad responded in a voice that told Gawain that he was remembering when he tried to calm Lancelot down. The incident nearly cost him some body parts.

"And the damn scout is doing what he does best." Bors grunted.

"Would that be scouting or killing?" Galahad asked. Gawain glared at Galahad and walked off. It was a full minute before Galahad followed him.

Tiredly Arthur looked out the window in his room that overlooked the practice arena. Lancelot was practicing, doing moves he'd never done on the battlefield. He kicked one leg out and used the other to lift off the ground and spun himself horizontally. While he spun he launched his blades into a target and hit dead center. Then he landed on his feet again. Arthur's jaw dropped and he could have sworn it made a thunk and hit the bottom of the open window.

Lancelot turned and saw Arthur in the window. He turned back to look at the target his swords hit. Calmly he walked over and pulled them out. With one last glance at Arthur he headed towards his room. Once in his room Lancelot changed and let out a roar in frustration and anger. He inhaled to calm himself and went to the tavern.

When he arrived he saw Galahad resting his head on Vanora's enlarged stomach. A little confused Lancelot cocked his head to the side.

"Come on whelp." Bors said as he dragged Lancelot over by the back of the neck. Bors let go once they were next to Vanora. Galahad had already sat back in his seat. Lancelot rested his ear against Vanora's stomach and listened to the steady beat of a small heart. Lancelot gave her a loose hug. Vanora pulled him closer in a tight mother-to-be hug. In surprise she pulled away.

"You're so cold." She said letting a hand rest against his cheek.

"Arthur I think he's sick." Vanora looked to Arthur who was sitting at the next table. Arthur stood up and place the back of one of his hands against Lancelot's forehead, then his cheek and finally the back of his neck.

"Lancelot do you feel alright?" He asked.

"I'm fine." Lancelot snapped and stalked off. Arthur watched him leave with concern spread over his features.

"He just needs a girl to warm him up." Bors said.

"In his mood he'd kill her." Said a deep rumbling voice from behind them. Bors and Arthur jumped.

"Tristan." Bors growled while turning around. Tristan was sitting behind them eating an apple.

"Well?" Arthur asked.

"The Woads are plotting to attack the next shipment along the river." Tristan replied. Arthur sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"We'll ride out at first light. See if we can draw them away from the river." Arthur said and walked off to tell the other knights. Tristan felt something hit his knee. When he looked down there was Gilly, one of Bors many children.

"How do you do that?" He asked. Tristan just winked and walked off. Gilly pouted after him. Suddenly angered voices broke the merry making of the tavern.

"Lancelot you have to go to the doctor!" Arthur hollered.

"I'm fine Arthur!" Lancelot bellowed back.

"You're colder than a corpse, Lancelot. Something is wrong!" Arthur retorted.

"I am not going to the doctor, I feel fine, and I don't even feel cold!" Lancelot refused stubbornly.

"Lancelot as your commander I order you to go to the doctor!" Arthur only ever used his position to get Lancelot to listen. Lancelot clenched his jaw, swallowing the roar of rage bellowing in his throat. Instead of a being a full roar it slipped past as a feral growl. Arthur grabbed Lancelot by the arm and dragged him away.

Arthur waited on the doctor by the door so that Lancelot wouldn't escape. Lancelot paced back and forth like a caged animal. At times he'd throw Arthur looks of loathing and anger. Unused to this kind of treatment from Lancelot, Arthur began to get a little nervous. Outwardly he acted as though it didn't bother him but inwardly he was cowering. When the doctor came in Arthur bolted the door and brought out the strip of leather he had brought with him. He caught Lancelot's wrists and tied them with the leather then let the doctor go to work.

"I find nothing wrong other than just a very low body temperature. He should not do much for the next few days." The doctor said letting them go.

The looked Lancelot gave Arthur as he locked him in his room reminded Arthur of a miffed cat. As soon as the door was locked it shook from Lancelot slamming into it.


	3. 2

Arthur looked at Lancelot as they rode out. The knight was still cross with him for locking him in his room.

"Lancelot?" Arthur asked cautiously. With Lancelot you had to be very careful or his infamous temper could be brought upon you. The angrier he got, the less control he had. The less control the less your chances of staying out of the sick ward. If angered enough there was a possibility you'd lose your life.

"What?" Lancelot asked with anger heavily laced into his voice.

"I did what I did out of concern for you." Arthur gravely hoped Lancelot would understand but felt deep in his stomach that he wouldn't.

"I don't need you to be concerned Arthur, I said I was fine. That should have been enough!" Lancelot exploded.

"Yet you're also a headstrong fool and won't admit if you're not feeling healthy. In the past you've said the same thing and ended up with some illness or other." Arthur said calmly which, sadly, wasn't helping him with Lancelot. Lancelot was about to respond when Tristan pulled his dapple stallion between them, effectively ending the argument. It was when Lancelot growled angrily at him that he noticed how pasty Lancelot was now. Tristan stared intently on Lancelot in attempt to figure out why the other was suddenly so pale.

"What?" Lancelot snapped.

"You're too pale." Tristan said his brows still furrowed. Lancelot released his reins and looked at his hands, indeed he was very pale. Galahad, who flanked the left side of Lancelot's horse, was wondering at Lancelot's ability to control his rambunctious stallion with only the use of his legs. Lancelot looked to the sun with a fearful look upon his face. In his head Lancelot prayed to Apollo, his sun god, that he wouldn't let the sun fry him alive today. Clouds moved in front of the sun, maybe Apollo was granting his prayers. Maybe not, the darn clouds moved.

Uneasily Lancelot began to worry his bottom lip. After 15 years of near constant, though it was forced, companionship with this man Tristan knew Lancelot never bit his lip unless he was afraid. Which rarely happened. This made Tristan edgy. Throughout the ride Tristan glanced at Lancelot, who was turning his gaze towards the sun every 6 seconds.

"Lancelot if you continue to do that you'll be seeing spots." Arthur said after what seemed like the 6 millionth time Lancelot looked at the sun, which was only while they were waiting on the hill. Gawain guessed Lancelot was probably seeing spots alone as he was doing the same thing while riding to the hill. Lancelot became anxious and twitchy as they waited. As if Lancelot had transferred some of his anxiousness to Xanadu, his steed, the sturdy black coffee-bay horse began to dance around and twitch.

"Lancelot calm that damned horse down." Galahad said from atop his moonwash'd Turanian.

Lancelot reined in Xanadu next to Arthur in an attempt to calm both him and his charger. Arthur leaned over in his saddle and stroked the robust creature's neck. He had never seen Lancelot like this and it was starting to worry him.

"There they are." Tristan said suddenly as a coach came into view.

"Anxious for your papers whelp?" Why Bors insisted on calling Lancelot whelp they didn't know. Lancelot's lack of immediate response got the others worried.

"Yeah, you could say that." The fact that Lancelot didn't reprimand Bors for the nickname worried them more.

"Woads." Tristan rang out and sent them off galloping.

Lancelot unwisely lost himself in the bloodshed and allowed himself to be controlled by the need for the racing hearts to stop. Oddly enough his own heart was being forced at a calm pace despite the adrenalin and bloodlust that ran through his veins.

After the encounter with the Woads the sun felt too hot on his skin. The priest that had come with the Bishop watched intently as the knight known in Rome as the Devil Knight, pawed at his hair as if trying to relieve the heat the dark curls trapped.

Night had fallen when they arrived; the Devil Knight had stopped pawing at his curls and calmed down. '_I really need to learn this guy's name._' Horten, the priest, thought as he entered Arthur's rooms. As they entered the meeting chamber Horten declared the round table in the room an evil.

A final assignment, Rome had given them a final assignment, no, a suicide mission. Lancelot felt his anger bubble. He'd be lucky if he could escape the crowds of the garrison before he lost it completely. Suddenly it struck him, he hadn't been able to control his temper of late, and therefore his other side wanted human blood. He hadn't had human blood for years. It was his luck he encountered no one on his way out of the garrison. That was until his senses kicked into high gear outside a village not far from the barracks. Tristan had followed him. Lancelot wanted to panic; if Tristan saw him doing this Tristan would surely kill him. Tristan found he had lost sight of Lancelot in the village. Something hard hit the back of his head causing him to lose consciousness.

Abruptly Tristan woke up, his skull ached and he was lying on the ground. _'The screaming isn't helping either.'_ He thought. _'Whoa whoa whoa back up, screaming?'_ Tristan sat up and saw a pale human, or what he thought was a human, with a mass of curly black hair lash out and grab a woman by her throat. It dropped her from its mouth and let out a roar. Grabbing the woman it sunk its teeth into her neck. Another woman stepped out from around a fountain. She threw back her head and let out a laugh. The other snarled at her and lunged. Thinking she could stop the person she stood there. The other person slammed into her sending them both to the ground. They fought tooth and nail, literally with their teeth and nails. Tristan absently noticed as the male ripped his claw like fingernails across the woman's chest that he looked like Lancelot. Then he realized it was Lancelot. Tristan promptly passed out again.


	4. 3

Tristan sensed the person crouching next to him before he actually opened his eyes. Tristan slowly opened his eyes. Long fingernails dripping with blood greeted his sight. As he raised his eyes he saw a familiar cloth shirt torn and discolored. His vision swam before he could see their face. Blinking hard to bring his sight back into focus, he finally looked into the face of the creature beside him. It was Lancelot, or so he thought. The same facial features, though paler than usual, as Lancelot, and the familiar unruly dark curls, but the eyes were frightfully different. They were the color of the moon at full shine; that didn't worry him. The depths of emptiness did. It was unnerving him to have those soulless eyes focused on him.

"Lancelot?" Tristan asked slowly. The man didn't speak but nodded gravely. Tristan looked over his shoulder. Flames licked the walls and roofs of the huts of the village, which was completely silent. Dead villagers lay on the ground, their eyes open and unseeing, throats viciously ripped open. The fountain was spurting water onto the muddy, blood soaked ground.

"Did you…" Tristan let his sentence drop off.

"No, I only took two." Lancelot said. While he spoke Tristan thought he glimpsed elongated eyeteeth. As if Lancelot knew what Tristan was thinking he pulled back he lips revealing inch long fangs.

"Who…" Tristan didn't seem to be able to find the words he wanted to say.

"My maker, she did this." Lancelot reached for Tristan's wrist. Still unnerved Tristan jerked his wrist away.

"I will not hurt you. I promise." Lancelot raised his nail to his torn shirt and made an X against his skin. Before his eyes Tristan saw the cut flesh heal, Tristan's eyes widened. Yet by seeing the old mark of promise from his homeland calmed him. Lancelot gave a toothy smile as he noticed the change in Tristan, and this time when he reached for Tristan's wrist the scout didn't jerk away.

"Come, we must return to the garrison." Lancelot pulled Tristan to his feet and began walking. As they walked Tristan felt eyes on them; apparently so did Lancelot for he stopped. A man jumped out of the brush with a pike in his hand. Like lightning Lancelot's hand went out and jerked back. The man fell with a hole in his chest. Lancelot held the man's still beating heart in his hand.

"Sorry 'bout that." Lancelot said and turned to continue out of the forest.

"Lance." Tristan said and nodded to the heart when Lancelot turned around. With a half smile Lancelot pitched the heart to the side. As they walked Tristan was stumbling more noticeably. Lancelot was at his side in seconds.

"Are you alright?" Lancelot asked in concern. Tristan nodded. The motion made his head swim causing images to kaleidoscope, making him dizzy and nauseous. When Lancelot tried to help Tristan pushed him away. The blood on Lancelot's hand sent the image of the still beating heart into Tristan's aching head. Tristan dropped to the ground and heaved. Lancelot swore and knelt beside him.

"I'm sorry. This is to much for you, I shouldn't have done that." Lancelot said. Tristan grunted and crawled away. Lancelot sighed and picked up the scout. He made a mental note to check on Tristan's eating habits, he was far to light. Tristan rested his head against Lancelot's shoulder attempting to get his head to stop spinning.

As they reached the outskirts of the barracks Lancelot broke the quiet that had settled. Tristan jumped at his voice.

"Hold me tight, I have to speed up." Tristan didn't understand but as the wind gushed past him he held Lancelot to the point that would quiet possibly crack another man's ribs. Distantly Tristan wondered why Lancelot was moving so fast and how his ribs weren't cracked. He relaxed his grip as he became used to how quickly they were moving, and shut his eyes against the images that sped by. His head hurt and all he wanted now was to sleep.

Lancelot slowed once in Tristan's room. He gently laid the scout on his bed and backed up to give Tristan some space. Now that they had stopped moving the knight was once more looking warily at Lancelot. He decided it would be best to leave. At the door he turned back to Tristan.

"I'm going to leave you now, but I request you keep this secret." Lancelot said as he left. Tristan groaned and rolled over, instantly regretting the action as it made him dry heave, which in turn made his head throb. For a while Tristan laid still, trying to not jump at every little sound. He felt like he was a child again, afraid of the night and the monsters it held. Lancelot looked in a few times through the window, Tristan never saw him. Lancelot focused intently on his jittery friend, imposing his will on the scout's mind to push him to sleep. Drowsiness crept up on Tristan, and despite his best efforts to fight it off; it sank its claws into him in a tight grip

As he fell into a deep sleep a dream attacked his mind. A horse had been galloping in the distance. Flashes of twisted red pain, hugging black isolation, beautiful yellow happiness, and white-hot pleasure assaulted his mind. But the steady beat of galloping hooves reined over the dream. When Tristan woke his dream clung to him like dried blood clinging to his saber. The dream and his memories of the night before merged and tangled together, until he was uncertain as to what was dream and what was reality. His head still throbbed and he felt vaguely sick to his stomach.

He wandered into the stable in a trance-like state, nearly getting trampled by Galahad's horse. He blinked dazedly, suddenly snapping back to the present. Arthur entered the stable and he suddenly remembered the mission they were to go on. He absently rubbed his head and went to finish preparing his horse.

When Bishop Germanius walked into the stable most of the knights visibly tensed but none so much as Lancelot. Tristan walked by him and he noticed how pale the scout was and how he was still unsteady on his feet. "I'll need to keep an eye on him," Lancelot said to himself, feeling somewhat guilty for hurting Tristan.

As the knights and Horton rode out Germanius heard a thought not his own echoing in his head. _"Watch your neck Germanius you never know when someone wants to chew on it."_ Bishop Germanius jumped and glanced apprehensively about. Seeing no one in the stable the Bishop practically ran to the chapel and prayed for a long while.


End file.
